Legend of the Draconis
by Erati
Summary: Haunted by flaming emerald eyes and a secondslong connection that left his soul open and longing, Draco Malfoy, the infamously devilish Prince of Slytherin is back at Hogwarts for his seventh and final year of school. See story for full summary!
1. A Mere Grain Of Salt in the Desert

**Story Title**: Legend of the Draconis

**Chapter Title**: A Mere Grain of Sand in the Desert

**Disclaimer**: I am a mere worshper at the Temple of J.K. Rawling and own NOTHING! No money is made for the insipid ramblings of said unworthy fan. All I have is a pocket full of lint and buttons, thus suing would be pointless, unless you have a lint fetish!

**Author**: Erati

**Beta(s)** None (or me, in other words. Sad, huh?)

**Summary**: Haunted by flaming emerald eyes and a seconds-long connection that left his soul open and longing, Draco Malfoy, the infamously devilish Prince of Slytherin is back at Hogwarts for his seventh and final year of school several months after the end of the second war with Voldermort. He thought the hardest battles of his live were long over. Little does he know, he'll have to find the courage and cunning not only to fight for his heart, but also the soul of magick itself.

Draco watched as Harry made his way across the floor of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, smiling and blushing, as usual. The other students clapped, laughed, and murmured appreciately at their hero's apparent bashfulness, even after having been so long in the spotlight. It seemed the only person who noticed the slight, careful blankness in Harry's eyes and the plaster around the edges of his smile was the ex-spy for the Light himself.

Draco's features froze like the lake in Winter, hard and unyeilding. He made himself stare at Harry, _not an unpleasant task in itself_, knowing that if he looked away his control, unusually fragile when near the Gryffindor, would snap and he'd find himself screaming at the oblivious fools, or hexing them into oblivion, before grabbing Harry and storming our of the Hall. Though the image accompanying that thougth made his cool, grey eyes twinkle with silent mirth, the knowlwdge that the scene was a real possibilty sent a slight shiver down his spine.

He watched Harry nod to Dumbledore before continuing his, intentionally, somewhat awkward progress to his house table. Before long, Draco found himself, again, reluctantly reliving the moments he had realized that what had started as intense curiousity in the course of the short, yet brutal war against Lord Voldemort, had turned into something else, something dangerous, something he was still hesitant to name

They had participated in many battles together, either as allies or adversaries. Draco, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, had watched Harry grow from stumbling determination, to magickal force of nature. His power became easily the stuff of legends, sending out low-level electricity whenever his control was less then total, which had become rare. Draco watched it crackle around him like vigilant lightning as he attacked two and three Death Eaters at a time, incapacitating them with a single spell during that battle.

In a bid to maintain the upper hand, Voldemort had called squibs to him in droves, arming them with magickally warded blades and teaching them the skills needed to use them. Fortunately for the Light, Draco, an accomplished swordsman, had been directed to train most of them, thus not only indirectly informing the Order and Ministry of the shift in strategy, but allowing Draco to pass on a few, slightly inaccurate manuevers into thier repetoire. _Every little bit, as they say._

The battle that changed everything, irrevocably shifting Draco's perception, was the first time the forces of the Light had gone up against the new Death Eater brigade. The battle had already been in full swing, Malfoy himself watching from a nearby rock outcropping, when a series of almost silmultaneous 'pop's could be heard echoing across the foothills. Very few could afford the luxury of being distracted, so few saw the witches and wizards apparate into the battle with the squibs, a dangerous endeavore with hexes and curses flying recklessly through the air. The squibs immediately began a merciless attack on thier enemy, swords flashing with violently bitter glee.

But the Light had been warned, as was evident when many unsheathed thier previously hidden swords, Harry himself clasping Godric Gryffindor's itself as he and his comrades confidently met this new threath, steel for steel.

Harry swept through the Death Eaters, sword cutting a bloody path, leaving pain and death in his wake. Wands rose against him, only to shutter violently like the string of a hastily plucked guitar at his mere glance.

It was while watching Harry, covered in blood, his boot firmly planted on the chest of a squirming, begging Death Eater, _coward, _Harry's wand pointed at his head, eyes blazing like emeralds set afire that the nickname came to Draco, unbidden: _he wasn't looking at Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived_, he thought, _but Mars, the God of War himself! _Though he had long ago chosen his path, it was at that moment that he knew Voldemort's demise wasn't just a happy possibility, but merely inevitable. Draco almost pitied him and his futile ambition.

_Almost._

After hexing the Death Eater into unconsciousness, Harry'd looked up, straight into Draco's eyes. The shock of that connection had coursed through his blood like distilled dragon fire setting his blood to boil and his head to reel. A savage rhythm pounded his brain like drums. He realized, with a jolt, that the pounding was his own heart.

It was all he could do to remain standing while teasing embers of flame licked his skin to life, a blazing salamander curling low in his stomach, let alone pretening a calm and poise he was far from feeling. He had no idea what showed on his face as the feeling of a frayed end of rope that was himself reached out and, with a blaze of fire, tangled with a similar bit a rope that leaped forth from the vision of god-like power and righteous fury that was once his childhood rival. They stared at each other as seconds stretched into eternity, neither willing to move.

Someone yelled for help and Harry turned, their stare broken, but thier connection lingering on, stretching between them like warm taffy in the stubby fingers of a child as Draco disapparated, petrified by the image conjured in his mind, an image of himself standing on the edge of a cliff, a cliff overlooking a field of emerald green flames, and preparing to leap.

Barely maintaining his composure, he had given his report to Lord Voldemort, not surprised that the news of imminent failure left his 'lordship' in a rage, many of his own suffering from his ill temper. As soon as absolutely possible, he'd taken his leave, returning to his room's in Voldemort's new base of operations. He immediately headed for his private bath, bracing himself against the sink while splashing his face with chill water before grabbing a towel to dry off. He stood fully, towel poised, before looking at himself in the mirror hanging over the sink. What he saw rocked him to his core.

The Malfoy genes had alwasy ensured that each new generation had eyes the color of storm clouds, grey and piercing. But that's not what Draco saw when he looked at his reflection, a reflection that had remained barely changed in many a month now.

Though his right eye was the same steely grey, his left eye was a swirling, glittering mercury. It shone silver as muggle Christmas tree tinsel in the reflected candle light.

It was the closet Draco had ever come to fainting.

He quickly decided to hide the color behind the strongest glamour he could muster until he could figure out how to change back permenantly. Though it returned his eye to the usual grey, if his emotions became too erratic, which happened with alarming consistency if his terrifying control slipped but a second, the glamour would weaken and the silver shine through.

Though he didn't know how or why, Draco knew it had something to do with that moment he had shared with Harry, both his eye color and his erratic emotions. The connection, that stubbornly remained steadfast, despite his enormous efforts of will, had been stretched, but had never wavered. He spent weeks remaining in Harry's company as little as possible. However, they had to work together, so avoiding him was not only impossible, but childish, as well.

Instead, he watched him and waited, that rope of simmering emotions so strong, at times he wondered why no else seemed to see it, humming between them in the air like the tongs of a tuning fork. During the War, Harry hadn't seem to notice his attentions and had never mentioned the incident on the battlefield. After the war, the glances that passed between them turned into a unique, wordless communication that, he admitted, if only to himself, he missed on those rare days they didn't happen to see each other.

Thinking himself completely invisible to the Gryffindor,at the moment, it was a shock to come back to himself and realize he was staring into the same jewel-toned eyes that had been haunting his dreams, both awake and sleeping.

_So much for not staring_, Draco thought, suppressing a slightly frantic laugh.

_Why did my curiousity have to plunge into obsession?_

To Be Continues

**A/N**- This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so I'm in desperate need of feedback! reaches down and plugs in big neon "REVIEW PLEASE" sign Thank You!


	2. Long Time Coming

**Chapter Title: **Long-time Coming

Harry felt Draco watching him, again. Harry always knew when Draco was watching him, though he'd learned quickly how to hide it, along with the strange pull he felt towards the Slytherin. He almost always knew what Draco was feeling. It hummed down that strange link between them, sending Draco's strongest emotions wafting through his head like some heady perfume, haunting and compelling.

At first, before that battle, the glances had seemed more appraising, curious, and Harry could easily ignore them. Then, Harry had looked up into Draco's dazzled, and dazzling, grey eyes over rocky hills littered with bodies. He'd expected to see indifference or curiousity at best, disgust at worst, it was known even among the Death Eaters Draco's aversion for senseless death. What they didn't know was that Draco saw every death in the war as senseless and layed the blame squarely at Voldemort's feet.

What Harry saw instead was respect, awe, and something that made him more nervous than being surrounded by his enemies ever had or could. An emotion he was powerless to do anything but acknowledge, though he refused to give name. This didn't stop it from glowing darkly in his eyes, like sunlight through leaf-toned storm clouds.

Though Harry'd been momentarily distracted by the spy, himself, what he saw for the first time, and had seen ever since, as he stared at Draco across those blood hills shocked him. Looming over the Slytherin was a dark, hulking shadow with swirling silver eyes as turbulent as the man before him. As time passed, the shadow had gone from ephemeral smoke to the almost solid presence of a black dragon, the eyes remaining as crystal clear as always, eyes that always seemed to be staring at him, even more often then Draco, himself.

Even now, those swirling mercury orbs were trained on him with impatient intensity. Though the sight should have sent him screaming, as it would any normal witch or wizard, the steady regard of the dragon wasn't frightening, but comforting. This, too, the dragon and it's affect on him, Harry had learned to ignore, unsure how the obviously oblivious Draco would handle being haunted by a dragon's ghost, if that was even what it was.

With an almost physical jolt, Harry's eyes met Draco's, that link tugging at him, bringing a tender ache that seemed dangerously close to his heart. Harry watched surprise flit across Draco's face with amusement. It wasn't often he caught the man offguard. The longing in his chest increased just a bit as Draco's lips smirked, a slender blonde eyebrow arched at him questioningly. With a smile, he had began to count on these near silent conversations for his sanity in the chaotic aftermath of the war, he leaned back in his chair and raised both ebony brows at Draco, clearly telling him that Draco had started it by staring at him.

Harry watched with, first disbelief, then surprise, as Draco's pale skin flushed rose from collar to the roots of his now shoulder length blonde locks. He couldn't help it. Harry through back his head and laughed, the joyous sound rising from his chest and flowing from his mouth like happiness given form. The sound was so rare and beautiful that many turned to smile at Harry, who was oblivious to all but the blonde at the other end of the Hall. The blonde that was rising from his seat.

Harry watched, his laugh subsiding to a delighted chuckle, as Draco rose, turning on his heel as he fled towards the Entrance Hall doors in a swirl of black cloth.

Draco fled the Great Hall, seeing the move as pure self-preservation. It had taken more will power than was allowed to stop himself from going to the Gryffindor, to stop himself from touching him, from feeling the pleasant rumble of Harry's laugh against his own chest. The physical ache to be near him had almost been his undoing. _Something has to be done_, he though frantically. _I don't know how long I can fight this._ For a second he entertained the thought of a brief affair with the beautiful man, but immediately rejected the idea. Some part of him knew that he'd never be satisfied with anything less than permanent, and that knowledge scared him more than anything else.

He wasn't sure how he got there, but he found himself suddenly staring at the stretch of stone wall that marked the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He paused a moment to collect himself. The once-Prince of Slytherin had been made less than welcome in Slytherin house since the end of the war and the knowledge that he had been a spy for the Light had been made public. Dumbledore had offered to set up a suite of rooms for him outside the house, but Draco had declined. He had and always would be a Slytherin and he refused to be bullied by anyone, especially his own housemates.

While he took the time to regain his composure, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he spoke, Draco knew it was Harry, even without the connection between them, he would always be sensitive to the other man's nearness. A part of him thrilled at the proximity, the rest of him was just weary. He was tired of fighting. Harry had been haunting him for the better part of two years now, even before that fateful battle. He just wanted it to end, or begin. He wasn't sure which, and, at the moment, he was too tired to figure it out.

"Hey, Draque, what's wrong?"

"Why won't you just leave me be, Harry?" Draco sighed out, pressing his head to the cool stone of the wall in front of him. He was far too tired to pretend anymore. He made the decision than and there. No more running, no more hiding. For some reason, the decision made him calmer, steadier. He sighed and turned to face the green eyed brunette, all the sadness and fatigue still evident in his eyes.

Harry met Draco's eyes, his confusion clear on his face as he moved towards him. Harry stopped, inches from the Slytherin, his sympathy shining in his eyes as he reached forward. As Harry's hand connected with Draco's cheek in what was meant to be a comforting caress, the faint tendrils of flame that licked their skin every time their eyes met flared like a banked bonfire set alight, searing them both as thier bodies collided, forced together by the sheer intensity of passion too long denied.

Draco's last thought before sanity became a mere memory was one word: _Finally!_

**A.N.**- First off, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everyone that reviewed! Though i had more chapters planned, i didn't want to post them if no one was enjoying the story!

Secondly, sorry about the wait. The internet at my house has been down for over a month. It's still down. I'm actually posting this from the computer at my local library. I'm just starting on the next chapter, so it'll be a bit before it's done and up. THANKS EVERYBODY and KEEP REVIEWING!


	3. Of Shield Charms and Hallmark Cards

**Chapter Title: **Of Shield Charms, Telepathy, and Medi-Witch Fans

_Finally_, Harry thought as his lips met Draco's, thier tongues and hands both battling for territory, screaming, demanding more, so much more than they had ever allowed themselves before. Harry's body jerked, his lips torn from Draco's, as Draco violently ripped his robes from collar to waist. Draco didn't stop there but ripped Harry's shirt away, leaving the remnants to pool around his hands, hands that were clutching at Draco's waist, keeping the length of thier bodies connected from hips to knees.

Harry felt the panting gasps of Draco's breath against his temple, felt his own chest rise and fall as his breath heaved against Draco's chest. He didn't remember ripping at Draco's robes, didn't remember tearing at his chest, didn't remember setting his nails into Draco's shoulders, but that didn't stop him from setting his teeth into the milk and cream flesh surrounding the flat, dark nipple just below his mouth, biting down until the nipple puckered in his mouth, bringin a hiss from Draco.

Harry didn't see Draco's head fall back, his eyes close, but he felt his hands, one clenching in his raven hair, the other squeezing his right ass-cheek, pressing them closer still. The flames burned through his blood, pulsed in the marrow of his bones, roaring in Harry's ears like an angry, impatient sea. Harry moved his hands from Draco's shoulders to his ass, digging as Draco had dug, through the layers of cloth, robes and pants and underwear beneath, pressing them still closer before sucking hard on the flesh between his teeth.

The roaring in his ears leapt still higher, pressed them still closer, as Harry licked, sucked, and rolled first one then the other of Draco's nipples in the hot haven of his mouth before Draco pulled his head back and attacked his mouth again, kissing him like he was trying to eat him from the mouth down. Harry had a moment to wonder if they were going to melt together before they were drowned in heat and fire and a beating that had more to do with the pulse between their legs then the one in their chests.

The sound of tearing cloth and ragged breathing were the only sounds for several minutes and fabric drifted around them like the debris of some violent hurricane while they kissed and groped, wrestling passionately for dominance over as much flesh as they each could touch.

Harry heard a strangled and impatient sound ring off the stone walls before his back met violently with a stone wall. Harry had a moment to growl angrily at the lose of sensation before Draco pressed against him, clenching hands around his ass and lifting him until the hard lengths of their arousal pressed and rubbed eagerly together. The sudden bombardment of pleasure made Harry writhed, back arching, legs wrapping high around Draco's waist as the flames hissed with them, burned them with an almost visible heat, rebounding and redoubling the passion it echoed.

Harry growled anew as Draco adjusted his body against the wall, seperating them. Then, at the probing at his entrance, he had barely a breath's time to brace himself.

Three things happened at once.

Draco thrust fiercely into him, pulling Harry's hips down to meet the thrust while he bit into Harry's shoulders.

Some part of him felt the blood flowing from both invasions, one of turgid flesh, the other of sharp teeth. And though he felt pain, it all melted, burned into a pleasure that blazed white hot, beating against them like they were the shore being battered by a sea of flames, over and over again, pain and pleasure, blood and esctasy, damage and rapture.

Harry had one last thought _"I'm burning!"_ before he exploded in a shower of blood, flame, and mind-shattering pleasure..

"Damn" Draco knew his voice was hoarse, but didn't care.

"I'll raise you a bloody hell!" Harry's voice was also hoarse, he observed, his face curving into a self-satisfied smirk against Harry's hair.

The sound of Harry's laughter drifted up to Draco and caused something warm to curl pleasantly in his stomach. Though the feeling of Harry's arse tightening around him caused a warmth of an altogether different kind to flare hotter in a decidedly lower portion of his anatomy.

Draco groaned as his hips jerked, involuntarily of course, thrusting his highly interested cock firmly into Harry. He heard Harry gasp and felt him writhe deliciously against him, his sphinctor tightening still further. Draco growled as heat licked across his skin, flames dancing behind his closed eyes as he pulled his hard length out of Harry, only to surge forward again, insistant and demanding as the fire that roared back to life.

Harry moaned and writhed.

Draco groaned and thrust.

Both surreneder to the fire.

It was quite a while before either could think again. Neither minded.

Harry sighed, more content than he'd ever felt, as Draco rained kisses across his face. He drapped his arms across the taller man's shoulders, his arms being the only part of his body with enough energy to move. _Well, almost_, he mentally corrected himself as his lips curved into a relaxed and happy smile before they were covered by Draco's in a tender kiss that caused a curious sort of melting in a region dangerously close to his heart. Before the gentle embers between them could flare into the fire that was quickly becoming familiar, they heard a sound from down the hall that froze them both.

"I think that will be quite enough, gentlemen. Don't you agree?"

Harry burried his face in Draco's chest and groaned, feeling the heat creep up his chest and into his face as he blushed. Harry sighed in resignation, the blush receeding as quickly as it had come, lifting his head to meet the twinkling blue eyes of his headmaster, who was presently standing right behind Draco, gazing at Harry over his shoulder. It didn't surprise him that he had moved so close without the tale-tell sounds of the swishing of cloaks giving him away. His presence in general didn't even surpise the Wizarding World's Savior. He always seemed to know what was happening in his school, especially where it concerned Harry himself.

Their eyes met and held, wildly twinkling blue and shuttered, empty green. Harry had automatically molded his face to pleasant blankness, one of the masks he showed the world. If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that Dumbledore's eyes twinkled still further at the sight. _But that's impossible, _Harry thought. _If his eyes were any more merry they'd have bells on! _

"I conjured a set of robes for the both of you, my dear boy. You seemed to need them."

Before Harry could thank him, however, he found himself awash in a fierce possessive rage. Almost as soon as he felt it, he realized the rage wasn't his own. He looked up the few inches necessary in an attempt meet his new lover's eyes and what he saw shocked him. Draco was staring at the stone wall as if he would melt it into oblivion. A muscle in his jaw ticked ominously and his whole body was ridged, almost vibrating with the force of his rage. He must have felt Harry's gaze, because he looked down, into Harry's eyes, and Harry gasped allowed. Draco's eyes weren't their usual storm-cloud grey, but the silver of the phantom dragon, mercury and swirling around his black pupils with the force of his emotion.

When their eyes connected, green to silver, one thought blasted threw his mind with the force of a tornadoe.

"MINE! You're MINE!"

The force of, not only the thought invading his mind, but the emotions behind it, caused Harry's vision to swim and his stomach to heave with nausous disorientation.

Suddenly, he was surrounded by warmth, not just in his mind, but his body as well. He didn't remember closing his eyes, but he didn't have to open them to know that Draco was now holding him like a child, pressed against his sleakly muscular chest, one arm under his knees, the other across his back. Draco's arms were almost too tight as they held him close. He wasn't surprised at the evidence of Draco's near panic. The sheer strength of his physical reaction to...whatever it was that was happening unsettled him enough to be grateful of the help. He knew he wouldn't have been able to remain standing otherwise.

Draco hadn't spoken out loud, yet Harry could sware he heard him say he was sorry. At the wave of remorse flooding his mind, he did open his eyes, his gaze immediately locked with Draco's, still that otherworldly silver, but no longer swirling, they were dark and glittering, like a lake of solid metal. The sadness in them tugged at his heart. He lifted his hand, caressed his lover's jaw and smiled, flooding his own mind with all the warmth and caring, and finally, forgiveness he felt, letting the emotions shine in his eyes. He was rewarded with a smile in return, before his feet were gently lowered to the floor.

But Draco refused to let him go completely, immediatly drawing him into an embrace. Harry wasn't the least bit upset. He wasn't the only one feeling possessive at the moment. Harry didn't want to let Draco go, either, not now that he was at last allowed to touch him. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder, a bit of his earlier contentment returning.

Dumbledore clearing his throat politely got their immediate attention. He didn't seem at all disconcerted by Draco's mercury gaze, which still held more than a little hostility as they both returned their gazes to him. Harry knew that neither of them were surprised by Dumbledore's unflappable calm.

Without saying a word, Dumbledore tucked a robe across first Harry's then Draco's shoulders, before stepping back and gesturing for them to preceed him. They turned, hands entwined, free hands keeping robes modestly closed, and headed down the hall away from the Slytherin common room, walking as close, and touching as much, as possible.

Neither of them noticed when the headmaster looked around the hall, noting the singed remains of clothe swirling around the hallway. They also didn't see the look of shock briefly flit across his face as he placed his hand against the stone wall the men had just cristened, rubbing his aged fingers against the now smooth inprint of Harry's back that appeared to have been melted there.

'_What the Hell-'_ Draco thought as they reached the end of the corridor and passed through an almost visible wall of magick.

_'A shield charm, Dumbledore's probably.'_ The though fluttered through his mind, clearly not his own.

_'Of course.'_, he thought, exasperation flickering almost absently that he hadn't thought of that hiimself.

_'Of course I realized it first,' came the smuggly amused thought from his lover, 'I am the Saviour of the Wizarding World!"_

Smirking, Draco formed an image of pinching Harry's arse.

'_Smart ass!'_ Draco heard Harry stifle a chuckle.

_'Hey! Haven't you done enough damage to my arse today?' _came the amused retort. Draco frowned, immediately contrite.

_'I'm sorry, Harry. I wouldn't hurt you for the world!'_

Harry stopped, pulling Draco to a stop as well. He turned to Draco, flashing him a mischevious smile as he stepped closer.

_'If you tell me you are never going to do that again, I'll kill you! After we finish talking to Dumbledore, I have every intention of us finding somewhere private and jumping you 'til lunch!'_

Draco grinned, his worry over Harry's physical health temporarily forgotten as he pulled the shorter man against him. He couldn't resist leaning down those few inches and kissing the mouth that had haunted his dreams, in one fashion or another, since first year, as he thought, _'Well, since you put it that way, however will I refuse!'_

Harry broke from the soft kiss and chuckled against Draco's mouth, the sound rumbling pleasantly against his chest, causing Draco to grin in, what he was sure, was a quite idiotic fashion. He almost missed Harry's arrogant reply.

_'Of course you can't. That's the point!'_

Again, they'd completely forgotten about Dumbledore, lost in each other and thier private conversation as they were, until the headmaster cleared his throat politely from behind them. When he was sure he had thier attention, the silent by-play between the two young men not lost on him in the least, his eyes twinkling at them like crazed Christmas lights, he pointed them down a side corridor.

"This way, gentlemen." With that, he continued on ahead, taking the lead this time.

Draco glanced at Harry, seeing his own confusion mirrored there. Once again taking each other's hands, they followed after, Draco asking aloud the question that was echoing in both thier minds.

"I thought we were headed to your office, Headmaster. Why are you taking us to the infirmary wing?"

During the War, and especially the battles that had taken place in Hogsmead and on Hogwart's grounds proper, it had been made quite obvious that the infirmary needed to be expanded to include it's own wing instead of merely one long corridor. Afterwards, since many of the medi-staff had pleaded with Dumbledore to stay on, the infirmary remained a wing large, Madame Pomfrey overseeing the rest of the staff, often to her consternation.

"Simple, my boys," Dumbledore answered thier question in his usual cheery tone, without stopping or turning to face them. "I'd like to know, as i'm sure would the both of you, exactly what happened in that corridor that sent up a backlash of magick so strong that not even the combination of the School's wards and my own shield charm could contain it." The shock of that confession overrode their usual discomfort at the reminder of how the Headmaster had found them, as Dumbledore had known it would, not doubt. He continued on. "

Not to mention finding out if there are any other side effects for either of you besides your eyes, Mr. Malfoy, and apparent increase in temper."

The amusement laced throughout the last statement was completely lost on Draco as his mind reeled with shock. He had been hiding the change in his eye for so long now that it had become second nature. To suddenly find that both Dumbledore and Harry, because he had notice the absence of shock from his lover at Dumbledore's pronouncement, both knew? He didn't know whether to laugh at the futility of hiding or to be angry at Dumbledore for his assuming he had the right to know. The confused swirl his thoughts had become was interrupted by a tentative thought, and waves of concern, from Harry.

_'Eyes'_ At this, Draco stopped, turning the confused, swirling mercury eyes in question on his lover.

_'What?'_

_'Eyes, Draque. Both of your eyes are this metallic silver.'_ Harry had obviously taken a page from Draco's book as Draco suddenly saw his own confused face through Harry's eyes, completely with not one, but two swirling orbs. He caught a flash of quickly stiffled mirth from the brunette along with another image of himself, gaping like a landed guppy. His previous confusion was quickly, and thankfully, pushed aside by feigned indignation as Draco turned and continued after the Headmaster, tugging a silently giggling Harry behind him.

_'That was a clear exaggeration,'_ he thought, his mental voice holding every ounce of arrogance he possessed. _"Malfoy's would never stoop to such an ignoble display,' _he huffed.

Another burst of silent amusement rippled through his mind from the Gryffindor, warming Draco more than any charm possibly could. When they spotted Dumbledore around a bend in a corridor, Draco remembered his earlier fury with the man, but before it could resurface, _Harry's Mine! I'll take care of him, no one else,_ a wave of guilt washed over him at the thought that he had threatened one of the few remaining friends he had.

A caressing warmth invaded his mind, beating back the guilt. He turned to Harry and they exchanged a sad smile as he felt Harry sqeeze his hand.

_'You can send him flowers later.'_ Draco smirked in response to that thought.

_'Do you think that muggle shop Hallmark makes cards for that sort of thing, attempted murder?'_ They both grinned.

_'They say they have cards for every occassion. It's worth a shot, though lemon drops would probably go over better with the flowers.'_

The levity they managed to create between them helped them forget where they were headed and why until they reached the entrance to the main infirmary. Dumbledore breezed through the double doors without the slightest sign of anxiety.

_'Of course he's not anxious. He's not about to have an over-eager medi-witch poking her wand at him for Merlin knows how long!'_ Along with the thought came an image of a petite medi-witch practically mauling Harry, demanding he undress to be examined thoroughly merely at his request for a headache potion.

Though the image would've ordinarily made him laugh, he was suddenly angry again, wanting to break the _little strumpet!_ into tiny pieces until he caught a flash of what Harry was feeling. He had always known the infirmary wing wasn't one of the green-eyed young man's favorite places but the sheer amount of resigned petulance radiating from the brunette surprised Draco. Harry obviously picked up on Draco's worry, because his mind was suddenly filled with that same caressing warmth again. He turned to see Harry smiling at him. He could do nothing else but return the smile.

_'Ready to go?'_

Draco sighed. He really didn't want to know, at least not yet. He wanted to enjoy his post-orgasmic euphoria and new-found physical intimacy with the object of his affections for a bit longer before having to face the cruelties of reality again, but he knew he had no choice, so he knodded, reluctantly. Their hands clenched around each other almost without thier knowledge, offering and recieving the support both desperately needed.

As one, they turned, their free hands pushing open the double doors as they entered the main infirmary, both of thier minds echoing the same desperate thought,_ 'Please let Madame Pomfrey be in!'_


	4. Good Grief!

**Chapter Title: **Grief

'_italics'_ - Telepathic communication

The sight that greeted Harry as they entered the main infirmary chilled his blood like few things had since the FInal Battle. Standing four feet down the center aisle of beds tending the only other patient in the infirmary room, her back to them, was Fluer Delacour's sister, Gabrielle. Petite, with the characteristic silvery-blonde hair of someone of Veela heritage and eyes so dark a blue they were almost violet, Gabrielle had most of the male population of Hogwarts, and no few of the females, faking or purposely injuring themselves just on the chance that she would be the medi-witch on-call. Madame Pomfrey had been forced to change Gabrielle's work schedule at random intervals so it would be harder to predict.

Unfortunately, for both Harry and the smitten portion of the student body, Gabrielle had fallen for Harry during his fourth year and had steadfastly pursued him since the summer after his fifth, though how her letters had been able to find him, he'd never know. That had been when her parents had decided she was old enough to begin her search for a suitable husband. She'd come down with the rest of her family when Fluer and Bill Weasly were married and hadn't left.

Harry was still looking around the huge room, desperately searching for Dumbledore or Madame Pomfrey, when he was spotted.

"Oh, Harry," she exclaimed in lightly accented english, "What has happened to you? Where are your clothes?" She didn't give him a chance to answer either question, however, as she rushed over to him. "Come. We must get you out of this horrible robe and into a proper hospital dressing gown immediately!" She was adamant as she took his arm, steering him towards one of the beds in the farthest corner of the room. Harry sighed, resigned, especially since he hadn't failed to notice how she had pointedly ignored Draco, even from two feet away.

Harry could feel waves of unsympathetic amusement coming from his Slytherin lover now. When Gabrielle had first approached, there had been a void, almost as if Draco had been waiting for something.

_'I was, Captain Obvious!'_ Even his mental voice smirks, Harry thought. He wasn't sure if Draco had heard him, but if he did, he chose to ignore it as he continued._ 'I had to know if you had feelings for her.'_

_'And if I had..?'_ He, of course, had never had feelings for the woman, but his curiousity was piqued.

_'I would have had to kill her, of course. Can't have any serious competition, now can I?"_ The deliberate casualness of Draco's tone warned Harry that the thought of killing Gabrielle had, indeed, crossed Draco's mind. Harry didn't know whether to be flattered that Draco cared enough to go to such lengths to kill him or amused that the otherwise cool Slytherin could be so ruled by simple jealousy, and still, should he be worried for anyone's saftey since Draco did seem perfectly willing, and he knew, more than able, to kill? Draco had obviously sensed Harry's dilemna and continued, relenting just a bit.

_'Alright, perhaps not kill, but maim. Definitely would have had to maim her.'_ Harry rolled his eyes at the flutter of amusement coming from the blonde. He wasn't fooled, however. He knew that he had to be careful, or he'd finally get to test which one of them was the stronger wizard. No matter how much he knew he loved the blonde, he wouldn't let him harm anyone if he could stop it. Harry rolled his eyes again as the infusive Gabrielle ushered him onto the hospital bed, continueing to ignore Draco as he sat down beside Harry, never relinquishing his hold on Harry's hand.

Gabrielle reached forward, with a disgusted cluck of her tongue, to remove Harry's robe, when a feral growl halted her mid-motion. Knowing she would regret it, she slowly turned toward the obvious source of the hair raising sound: one instantly infuriated Draco Malfoy.

Harry had experienced the quick mood swing and the furnace-like blast of anger from his lover earlier, so, while abrupt and unexpected, it wasn't nearly as disorienting the second time around. He even took a second to be faintly amused at Gabrielle's 'horror movie victim' impression before turning to his seriously enraged lover. Ignoring the bone-grinding grip Draco had on his hand, he took his free hand, allowing his robe slide open a bit, and cradled the side of Draco's face before attempting, gently, to turn his head away, redirecting his attention, hopefully, from the duely terrified medi-witch and onto himself. He had been sending a steady wave of calm warmth and love to the furiously protective blonde, but it didn't seem to be making the slightest dent. Hench Harry's more direct, and, thusfar, unsuccessful attempt to turn Draco's head. But the more pressure he applied, the more insistant the Slytherin became at staring Gabrielle down.

When Gabrielle still refused to back away, either because she was frozen in terror, or too stubborn to think, even now, of moving, the volume of Draco's growl steadily increased to the point where he was tense, leaning towards the woman, sharp, dagger-like teeth bared. It was with immense relief that Harry turned at the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps and saw Madame Pomfrey approaching, Dumbledore follwing in her wake. She stopped abruptly as Draco's fiercely glowing and swirling metallic gaze flicked in her direction, assessing and dismissing her inside a second, before returning and renewing his growling watch of the other medi-witch.

Just as quickly, Madame Pomfrey correctly assessed the situation between the three. Harry absently admired the nurse's cool head and soothing tone as she instructed her employee.

"Slowly step away from the bed, Gabrielle." A shudder passed through Delacour as she seemed to come back into herself before following her superior's order, taking first one, then another hesitant step backwards, her blue eyes never leaving Draco's. The further she got from Harry, the calmer Draco seemed to become, until he was quitely glaring at her, the only signe of his former upset, the still roiling, glittering silver of his eyes. But when he spoke, his voice still held the edge of it's former growl.

"Don't ever come near him again." The calm determination that ribboned the statement was all the threat necessary. And, with even wider, horror-filled eyes, Gabrielle turned and fled. Everyone watch Draco as he steadily followed her retreat. For long seconds no one spoke.

"I guess you weren't kidding when you mentioned maiming." If it were possible, the tension thickened still further as Draco turned his head to eye Harry. Seconds ticked by heavily as metallic silver calmly met jewel-like emerald. Then Draco did something that shocked everyone but Harry. He tossed back his head and laughed.

Madame Pomfrey huffed indignantly as she eyed he two now grinning wizards, her lips quirking as she struggled not to smile, relieved at the drastic decrease in tension. Composing herself, she instructed her new charges.

"Follow me, gentlemen." With that, she turned, heading for the opposite end of the room. Harry knew exactly where they were going. Since the end of the war, Harry had been plagued anew with fans, well-wishers, greatful victims and their families, and various hangers-on. The almost constant barrage of people, whom even Dumbledore seemed a bit helpless in keeping completely at bay, hadn't balked at entering Madame Pomfrey's domain. In fact, they seemed rather thrilled with the challenge of trying to get past her to see him anytime he was injured. Pomfrey quickly tired of their 'blatant foolishness' and a hidden room off the main infirmary was quickly created and designated for Harry's personal use. Only Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and Harry himself could access it and while he still didn't like being singled out, though more than used to it by now, he had to admit that it did come in handy.

When they got to an apparently blank wall, Madame Pomfrey pressed her hand to it, waiting patiently for the door to appear. Harry had once asked how the room was created. The war had given him a sixth sense, so to speak, regarding hidden magick passages and the like, he'd needed it fighting one of the most ruthlessly sly wizards to ever exist. But even he hadn't been able to detect the room before it was shown to him. Dumbledore had simply deadpaned, "I asked."

They all filled into the sparse room, the Chief Medi-witch first, then Draco and himself, still holding hands, then the Headmaster, closing the door behind them. Harry knew from experience that, even though the room was occupied, the door would completely disappear on the opposite side of the wall.

Motioning them towards the bed against the far right wall, Pomfrey calmly addressed Draco.

"Maybe now you'll let me examine Harry and yourself, Mr. Malfoy." Her brow rose imperiously as she patiently waited for permission to do her job. Draco's brow echoed hers as he accessed the much older woman, cool grey eyes meeting equally cool brown.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you've recently had any 'naked harry' fantasies." Shocked silence, or at least Harry was shocked. But before he could recover, Pomfrey responded.

"I believe you'll find that almost everyone with a pulse who has ever been fortunate enough to meet Harry has, at one point or another, had 'naked Harry' fantasies, as you call them. But, recently? I'm afraid not, Draco" By the time they had finished this sedate discussion, Dumbledore's eyes, once again, held their pyschoticaly merry twinkle and Harry himself was beet-red, from hairline to chest. Harry treated Draco to a stiff glare and a hasty thought _'I'll get you for this!', _before turning to Madame Pomfrey, blatantly ignoring her admission to having had sexual fantasies about him, his expression cool and dignified as he addressed her.

"You may begin your examination when you're ready, Madame Pomfrey." Showing Harry the aristocratic demeanor she had displayed with Draco, she serenly stepped forward, drawing her wand and beginning her battery of tests.

Her professional facade quickly crumbled, however, as the tests progressed, the results showing not only in wand reactions such as vibrations, glowing various colors, and strange emissions, but also written, on a piece of parchment she'd conjured just before beginning. The results simply appeared upon the page. When her wand didn't show the expected results, she turned to the parchment repeatedly, quickly scanning the newest recorded results. She had been a medi-witch with the same wand, long enough to know better, but she still had to surpress the urge to eye her wand for cracks or evidence of warping.

Carrying the parchment with her back to the foot of the bed instead of leaving it on the table against the wall, at the head of the bed, as she had been doing for the past twenty minutes, she watched it intently as she carefully casted three more spells. Though her wand didn't react these times, by the look on Pomfrey's face, there were results recorded, extremely surprising results.

Very little surprised Madame Pomfrey. She had been through both Voldemort Wars and had been correcting the misjudgment of hormonal young witches and wizards for over a decade. The near shock clearly evident on her face was beginning to frighten Harry. But before he could comment, a light of comprehension seemed to dawn as she noticed he and Draco were still holding hands. With her profession medi-witch mask, once again, firmly in place, she turned to Draco, her expression as firm and disapproving as her tone.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you please go wait in the restroom. I believe your presence is affecting the test results." Draco quirked a brow.

"Couldn't I just move to a different corner of the room." She completely ignored his question and turned to the Headmaster, politely asking him to accompany Draco out of the room and into the bathroom.

Twinkling, amused blue eyes swung to meet irritated grey. After a few seconds of staring and twinkling, Dumbledore turned, heading for the door next to a tall mahogany wardrobe set in the back wall behind the bed. After giving Harry a soft, lingering kiss, Draco rose from the bed, gathering all the dignity he could, which was quite a lot in Harry's amused opinion, and followed gracefully in Dumbledore's wake, closing the bathroom door gently behind him.

While Harry avoided comparing his new lover's exit with the fiery elegance his ex-lover had become legendary for, Pomfrey raised her wand, casting a few locking and barrier chams at the loo door before, again, turning to Harry. Ignoring his look of slightly surpressed, but mild, aggitation, she continued casting her diagnostic spells, a small frown appearing after the second, and deepening with every new spell. She even went through the previous spells twice, just to make sure of the results. So engrossed was she in the obviously impossible findings, that it took her some time to notice Harry's steadily increasing distress. When she did notice, he had progressed to the point where he was huddled into himself, arms hugging his chest as he slowly rocked back and forth, crying copiously, face slack with apparent grief as he whispered one word over and over again, chanting it like a prayer.

"Draco. Draco. Draco..." Concerned frown lining her face, Pomfrey spoke softly, cautiously.

"Harry, what is the matter?" Slow seconds passed as Harry's breath hitched and he raised his head heavily to meet her eyes.

"Draco's gone." A choked sob quickly followed the statement, followed swiftly by another, and still another. It seemed the flood gates of Harry's illogical grief had opened and he openly weeped.

Even Harry himself knew that his grief was irrational, but as soon as the blocking charms had been erected, he had noticed the absence of Draco from his mind. Though it was a new intimacy, or more accurately, an intensification of the intimacy that had sprung between them on a blood washed hill during battle, Harry had instantly become dependent on the constant presence of Draco's consciousness nestled within his own. Some instinct informed him that Draco was just as dependent and the only reason thier communication would be so suddenly broken, his silent summons unanswered, would be if Draco was dead. So, he grieved. Loudly.

Madame Pomfrey tried to calm the young wizard, tried to remind him that Draco was just a room away, but to no avail. While she watched, heartsick, Harry lay back on the bed, curled himself into a fetal position, and sobbed as if his heart had been shattered. As he continued to cry, Pomfrey turned determinedly towards the door, resignation in her every step. But before she had passed the foot of the bed, the lavatory door burst from it's hinges, an inhuman roar issuing from the room beyond. Draco stood in the doorway, tears streaming from his, again, glittering eyes, as he spotted, and glared at Pomfrey, the medi-witch having to duck and huddle at the foot of the bed to avoid the flying projectile. Surprisingly, there was only shock and awe on her face as she looked up at the now naked and snarling Slytherin. Even the pointed teeth and leathery, blood-soaked wings now protruding from his back didn't inspire fear in the older woman.

As he advanced towards her, she took note of his bloody claws and the ragged wounds on his arms, chest, and legs, obviously self-inflicted. The marks were still dripping and quite a few looked worryingly deep. By the time she had accessed the obvious physical damage, Draco was looming over her, his snarling more pronounced. She visibly braced herself, sure he was going to attack. The picture of serenity, she closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to begin.

"Draco?" The whisper barely registered to the medi-witch, but the continued absence of pain did.

Harry hadn't moved when the door sailed across the room and connected thunderingly with the opposite wall. He didn't move when Madame Pomfrey gasped and ducked to avoid being split in two by the heavy wood. He did, however, lift his head at the sound of the infuriated snarl, and the feel of the familiar wash of anger and the naseating level of pain beneath it. He caught his breath as he watched, from his huddled position on the bed, the graceful and unabashedly naked blonde stalk purposefully towards the crouched chief medi-witch. Draco was so passionately beautiful that Harry almost couldn't believe him real.

"Draco?" he called again, kneeling up now, his eyes never leaving Draco's. Quicker than could be seen, Draco pounced on Harry, knocking him back and riding his body down, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, forcing Harry's lips apart to make way for his questing tongue. Harry's own tongue came out to do battle with his as Draco's wings folded against his back. Forcing his way into the blond's mouth, Harry scraped his tongue along the sharp edge of one of his lover's teeth in the process. Draco groaned, wings shuddering, as he sucked at Harry's mouth and tongue, desperate for more of the coppery sweet taste that was the very essence of his raven-haired lover. He ground his hips against Harry's arching ones, greedy for more.

While they spent a considerable amount of time with roaming hands, tongues and limbs entwined, Draco's wings disappearing at some time along the way, Pomfrey stood. She turned towards the bed, awe being quickly overtaken by pure shock, before turning away, towards Dumbledore who, though a bit disheveled, looked none the worst for ware. He smiled cheerfully at her as he stepped out of the shambles that used to be the lavatory and walked to her, that damnable twinkle, as she called it, still very much in evidence.

"I believe that, for not only our and the school's sake, but thiers as well, Draco and Harry should remain as close as possible." Pomfrey made a decidedly unladylike sound, turning back to the bed and the two teens entangled therein before speaking.

"I'm forced, Headmaster, to agree." With a flick of her wand, she summoned her parchment of diagnostic results to her and, without turning away from the now sweaty, sated, and dazed couple, handed it to the Headmaster. Smiling, he looked down at the parchment, casually at first, before stopping, shock flickering across his eyes, stealing thier twinkle, leaving them shuttered as he scanned the parchment a second time.

"Are you sure?" Expression grave, she nodded. Ordinarily, she'd have taken offense at the insult to her hard-won skills as a medi-witch, but even she had doubted the results, at least at first. They stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to think, at a complete lose. What the results showed them was supposed to be impossible. In thier preoccupation with thier own dismay, neither noticed the two pairs of eyes now staring at them.

Harry had sensed thier confusion and apprehension bordering on fear. The fact that it was eminating not just from Pomfrey, who tended to act the overprotective mother to all her patients, but from Dumbledore as well replaced any embarrassment they may have had concerning thier aberrant reaction to being seperated with no small amount of panic.

"What's going on?" He didn't bother addressing either of them in particular, He knew they would decide amongst themselves which would respond.

_'Twenty galleons says it's Albus!'_ Reveling in the return of the Draco's presence, Harry replied, almost grinning. Eventhough they both knew this to be the case.

_"Your on!"_

Dumbledore conjured a chair, causing Draco to jult, but before Harry could asky why, the Headmaster sat heavily, sighing. There were times when Albus looked every bit of his over four hundred years. This was one of them. Before speaking, he removed his trademark spectacles, rubbing his eyes, as if he felt a headach forming, before replacing them. He looked up, meeting first Harry's emerald eyes, then Draco's still mercury ones, before turning back to Harry, who had voiced the question.

"Do you know what a Triskele Binding is, Harry?"

**A.N.- **Sorry about the lateness of the update! My brother had a video to finish for Axis Studios and he mercilessly hogged the computer. On top of that, I hadn't intended for this chappie to be this long, but when I got to the point I had originally intended to leave it, I didn't think it was long enough! The cliffie, I'm afraid, appeared all by itself. The more I write, the more the story changes on me. But, luckily, I finally found a direction I truely like! **I warn everyone who truely hates Snape not to continue! **Though he won't be warm and fuzzy in the upcoming chappies (can't promise he'll be in the next, but he's coming!), he will have a heart and a conscience, sort of! Hope to update, again, within the next week, ten days at the latest, but promise nothing! PLEASE REVIEW! I love hearing from you. If you want emails informing you of when i update, please give me your addy when you review! Goddess Bless!s


	5. The Wonders of Divine Intervention

**Chapter Title: **The Wonders of Divine Intervention

**A.N.:** Again, I'm sorry about the wait, everybody! dodges rotten fruit I just got a new job, an currently seeing someone, and am trying to move, so life's been a bit hectic for me lately. Not to mention that this chappie has a lot of info in it and it took more time than I had originally intended to make the points I wanted. If anyone can spot all the things I didn't say in this chappie and put it in your review, along with your e-mail addy, I just might be willing to send you a teaser for the next chapter! Also, for anyone who wants an alert of when I update, please include and e-mail addy in your review and I'll send 'em out. Thanks again, everyone. Please R&R! I live to hear from you guys!

Draco went rigid as so many different things fell into the place at the sound of the simple question. He felt Harry's confusion, then surprise as he realized that, while he was clueless about bindings, let alone Triskele Bindings, Draco, apparently, wasn't.

"You know what it is don't you, Draque?" Harry asked, remembering just in time, to speak aloud. Still more than a little shocked, he turned, his stunned grey eyes meeting confused, concerned, green, and nodded.

"Yes, I know what it is, but those kind are supposed to be mere legend now." He paused, unsure of where to start. When Harry uttered a slightly impatient sound, after having made an unenlightening forey into the jumbled mass that his thoughts had become, Draco gathered himself and began to explain.

"Before Wizarding Society became inundated with Muggle Traditions," Draco started, happy to note that talking seemed to help organize his thoughts and offset the panic as he automatically slipped into a surprisingly Hermione-like lecture mode, "Wizards and witches weren't 'married', but bound by ritual ceremony, one to another.

"General bindings, unlike marriage, weren't restricted by sex or number, meaning as many as five or six wizards and/or witches could be bound together. The bindings did literally bind them together on three different levels.

"The first to be undertaken was a Heart Binding, which made it possible for those involved to identify the source and experience the emotions of the others included in the binding. Though all the bindings are permanent, the heart binding was often the first because a witch or wizard, if powerful enough, could block out the emotions of the others to the point that they were, for the most part, hardly noticeable, a kind of emotional buzzing in the back of the person's consciousness, in cases where the binding proved unsatisfactory. This was the Binding equivalent of divorce.

"The next binding, was of the Mind. The results of this binding were that the other members of the binding could identify and share each other's thoughts to the point that, in some instances, telepathy was possible, almost common. Each member of the binding needed constant.. mental .. contact..." here, Draco paused, as if the reality of what he'd been, more or less reciting by rote, had finally caught up with what he'd just experienced. Forcing the panic of realization away, he continued, "Each member needs constant mental contact or grief sets in. With General Bindings, the emotional distress could be anywhere from mild panic to intense melancholy.

"The third, and final level of binding, Spirit Binding, is generally merely an intensification and solidification of the previous two. The emotional tranference felt from the participants can become intense to the point that they seem to be one's own. Mental communication that took an active will before may happen with the slightest of intent. Even deeply seeded thoughts and half-felt emotions may spread from one binded to another. In some cases, even magick had been known to merge, causing nearly disastrous cases of accidental magick. Without the appropriate level of magickal control and/or compatibility, the final binding can lead to insanity due to irregular magickal surges.

"Bindings were finally outlawed in 1412 after an in-depth investigation proved them dangerous to most muggleborn and some half-blood witches and wizards." Finally loosing patience, Harry spoke out.

"Though I thank you for the history lesson, what does any of _that_ have to do with _us_?" Harry had listened to the lecture with mild interest. Though his education in the Wizarding World had been extensive, he still knew far too little about general wizarding culture and its traditions. But while, at any other time, he'd have been fascinated, at this point, he just wanted to know what mess he'd landed himself in this time.

"I believe Mr. Malfoy is getting to that, dear boy," came Dumbledore's mild rebuke, before he turned to Draco, signaling for him to continue.

"Triskele Bindings are different, Harry. Though they do consist of the same three levels of binding and can involve either sex, there the similarities more or less end.

"First of all, the bindings start off more intense instead of gradually growing with time. Not only emotions, but also physical sensations are often spread between the bonded, affecting them immediately." When Harry's face mirrored his confusion, Draco sighed.

"That means that if one person is angry, everyone connected by the Heart Binding is either engulfed by that persons rage, or grows immediatly angry themselves. And if one person is physically aroused...," he began, grey eyes sad now.

With dawning conprehension and slight horror, Harry completed the sentence," Everyone connected by the heart binding is physically aroused."

Draco nodded.

"With a Triskele Mind Binding, those connected can literally think with one mind. Perceptions, ideas, memories can all become jumbled together or integrated within each other's minds to the point where gestures, mannerisms, speech patterns, and even natural reactions to certain stimuli become mingled among the connected." As Draco took a breath to launch into an account of Triskele Spirit Binding, Harry made a connection that Draco had been hoping he wouldn't. At least, not so soon.

"You keep using the phrase 'those connected', but wouldn't all the participants of the Binding be connected?" With a resigned sigh, Draco shook his head in the negative, before responding.

"That's another difference between General and Triskele Bindings, Harry. They're involuntary, meaning we have little control over the who and even the which of Triskele Bindings. The Binding was seen as an act of the divine, a union set into motion and blessed by the Gods themselves. It was believed that the three participants, no more and no less, were chosen at birth to be the leaders of their age. Yet the binding itself would only manifest if the state of magick itself were in peril. Merlin was thought to have been a participant of a Triskele Binding. The Triskele Bound were said to have fate itself as an ally. Destiny was more or less woven around their actions.

Another key distinction is that different levels of bindings will be the first among them. Meaning that while a Heart Binding may be the first binding between two participants, a Mind Binding maybe the first between another two. The only thing similar is that at least one of the bindings must connect them each to the other from three years after the first binding is made, and once a level of binding has, in some way, connected all three each to the other, all three bindings must be in place before three seasons pass or all three will begin a decent into madness." Draco rushed along when he sensed Harry about to interrupt.

"There's another thing. Triskele Bindings can only manifest if one of the participants isn't completely human." Here, Draco stopped, giving Harry time to let the last bit sink in. He, of course, knew that he wasn't completely human, knew he had never been completely human, despite his family's machinations for pure-blood supremacy. Sadly, he found himself trying to quiet the pessimistic voice in the back of his mind that was trying to convince him that the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Kick-Voldemort's-Scaly-Arse wouldn't want to be the lover of what, now must surely amount to a human looking, at least most of the time, magickal creature, binded or not.

Suddenly, he felt the back of his head given a hard smack. Stunned, he turned to meet Harry's amused green eyes.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Harry grinned.

"For being an idiot," was his calm reply. For a moment, Draco was confused, that is, until a very suggestive image of a leather-winged Draco flying entwined with Harry in the sky above Hogwarts, doing things to each other that were surely against school regulations, if not Wizarding Law, popped into his head. Draco met Harry, lascavious grin for lascavious grin.

Before thier silent plotting could go too far, Dumbledore redirected thier attention to something even Harry had overlooked in the flood of new information.

"As much as I hate to interrupt, I believe we have a serious problem." Both teens turned back to Dumbledore, Harry's expression confused, Draco's, again, resigned.

"What is it, Headmaster?"

"Your third, Harry. Triskele Binding included no more and no less than a divinely blessed trinity. My dear boy, we have no idea when the first binding took place, so we have no idea how long we have until insanity begins to take hold. You only have three seasons since the first binding and if the first binding occured near the beginning of last Spring, then you have barely a week to find your third, complete the other levels of binding, and consummate the union." As Draco planned how to find someone that both of them had connected to and slept with, a requirement of the binding along with blood and magick, for complete manifestation, he could feel the controlled chaos that Harry's mind had become. Sensing that he'd found his first question, Draco mentally relaxed, putting off the mental run through, waiting for the interruptions to begin.

"How are you so sure that what's affected us is a Triskele Binding?" Pomfrey took this question, stepping forward from where she had been silently watching the discussion.

"When I began my diagnostic spells, I noticed that there were subtle, but startling physical changes to your physiology, Mr. Potter. Everything from your bone structure, the shape of your internal organs, muscle mass and density, brainwave activity, pupil shape and size, nervous and cardiovascular system interaction, and even blood cell structure have all been changed, are, in fact, still changing. But when I got around to testing your magick, I was truly alarmed. That is when I asked Mr. Malfoy to leave the room. Your magick has increased, not unexpected in itself considering your young age, but the very nature of your magick has also changed.

"While most witches and wizards have a core of magick that is aligned with power points along the spine, your magick, Mr. Potter, has expanded, permeating your body with magickal energy. You, and I now believe, Mr. Malfoy have become veritably saturated with your own magick. The only other people to ever be so severly altered, especially at such a fundamental level, have been the participantes of a Triskele Binding.

"Your body also, to a certain degree, absorbed the base magick of my spells, Mr. Potter, triggering a temporary connection that allowed you to slowly begin to drain my own magickal core. That is why I didn't stop that door that Draco so affectively blasted across the room," Pomfrey stated with a warm forgiving smile at Draco's look of mild chagrin and Harry's of slight horror, before continuing.

"Magickal Bindings also register as a part of certain, very old medi-spells taught to high-level medi-witches to this day. After Draco left the room, and the regular spells kept showing such odd results, I performed a few of those spells. I didn't get a chance to finish them before you began to mourn, but the signs, both physical, magickal, and emotional all point to a Triskele Binding. No other binding packs quite that big a punch."

"Are there no other explainations for your findings, Madame Pomfrey?" Though his tone was curious at most and his expression the epitome of casual interest, Draco knew that Harry was determined to be aware of all possible alternatives, especially those without the looming threat of insanity.

Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore exchanged an unreadable look, though both could feel the resigned agreement from them and, after a nod from Pomfrey, determination from Dumbledore.

"There is a spell, gentlemen, a very old spell. It's only purpose is to determind the type and level of bond between binded peoples. Depending on the magickal strength of those involved and the levels still incomplete, the spell can be anywhere from mildly uncomfortable to highly painful. Your bodies will be surrounded by a multi-colored glow for the duration of the spell, the intensity of which will indicate magickal power. The colors themselves signify the different levels of binding, blue for the mind, red for the heart, and gold for the soul."

Madame Pomfrey gave them a few seconds to absorb what had been said. The last thing she wanted to do was cause either of her favorite, and still most frequent, patients undue pain or discomfort, but the spell was also the only way to determine which, if any, binding affected the young men. It wouldn't tell them how long the bindings had been in place, but it was a start.

After a few moments, Pomfrey addressed them again.

"There is something else." When she, again, had their attention, she continued. "The spell won't only affect the two of you. By casting the spell on one of you, it will also affect the other bonded. They will share in the discomfort and the results will also be evident, no matter where they are. If all three levels of binding aren't complete, a ring of pure white will interrupt the bands of color, indicating a break." Before either young man could ask, Pomfrey explained.

"Mr. Potter, I suspect that Mr. Malfoy and yourself share at least the first two bindings, both heart and mind, so a blue, then red glow should surround you both when the spell takes affect, but if either of you, say Mr. Malfoy, only shares a mind binding with the third party, there will be a ring of white, then another layer of blue between the previous blue and red."

Pensive expressions filtered across both teen's features before Harry, again, raised another concern.

"What if we all share every binding except the last?"

"Then both of you will have a blue, then red glow, followed by a ring of white. Then, the last color will be the gold."

"Will the person the spell is cast on suffer any more discomfort then the other participants?" Draco didn't want Harry to endure any more suffering than was strictly necessary. This, completely unnecessary sentoment, in his opinion, almost earned him another smack from said wizard. Madame Pomfrey smiled at the young wizard that most saw as unfeeling and answered.

"No, Mr. Malfoy. What pain you each endure will be in equal measure." Draco let out a small sigh. At least that was settled, they both thought.

Draco squared his shoulders, his grey eyes meeting the medi-witch's brown, determination etched in ever feature.

"Do it."

Pain.

Harry's entire existence had narrowed down to that one sensation. The fact that even Draco's hand pressed against his was but a distant shadow was a testament to how much pain he was currently in.

It hadn't started out nearly as bad. If war had taught him nothing else, it taught Harry how to bare pain stoically. So when he felt his skin heat and his blood begin to boil, he merely ground his teeth and held on to Draco's hand as he rode it out. But the burning steadily increased to the point where it felt as if, even his bones were being fried.

Sooner than his pride was comfortable with, he found himself, once again, huddled on the bed in a fetal position, desperately trying to hold in the pain. When it got to the point where he was sure his skin was melting and all his vital organs were surely turning to ask, he vaguely realized he heard someone screaming. He was in too much agony to find out who was making so much noise.

HIs last clear thought before his mind was taken over completely was to long for a simple Cruciatus curse.

The Headmaster and Chief Medi-Witch watched, with a mixture of awe and horror as the screaming, writhing teen wizards were engulfted by what, to all appearances, was a dark storm cloud, complete with bright bursts of purple lightning. The dense mist seemed to swirl fluidly around them. At times, it even seemed to go through the young men, before it slowly began to coelase, pulsing soflty.

As the fog cleared, it was replaced by a faint, pink-tinged glow that rapidly sharpened into a blinding red. The shade so violent that it was as if the color itself showed surprise. But this color was quickly overtaken by another, a deep, dark blue. The color was the blue of deep ocean, the blue of the late dusk sky. It was as dark a blue as existed without a touch of black, yet the hue was so powerful, it washed the rest of the room in it's light. Suddenly, there was a burst of dazzling white light. The purity of the color lent it a sparkle as if the light itself was reflected off of a metallic rainbow.

Up until this point, both boys had been an almost singular entity, sharing in the brilliant show of light displayed before them to predictable results, but here, it changed, as the boys seemed to live to surprise them, even now. Instead of either a red, blue, or golden glow like they had all been expecting, they were struck by a flood of bright purple light. The deep, royale purple was hightened by firey arcs of golden lightening, metal made light. The sheer amount of power radiating through this final haze was enought to shock even the wizened headmater, who almost retreated a step in his surprise.

The final phase of the spell lasted several heartbeats longer than the rest before the light disappeared totally, as if the colors weren't still dancing behind the wide eyes of their only audience.

Both teens appeared totaly exhausted by thier ordeal as they huddled, only thier hands touching, on the hospital bed. The power displayed before them had Madame Pomfrey utterly convinced that both her boys would pass out in relief at the suspension of pain, so it was doubly shocking when both young men turned to each other, sparkling green meeting swirling mercury, worry quickly outweighing echoes of pain as they each uttered one word.

"Severus."

In the bowels of the castle, tormented screams continued to echo off cold grey walls, as pained and confused obsidian eyes stared, unseeingly at the unyeilding stone ceiling. Gently waved black hair pooled around sharply angular pale features like a dark halo. The rest of the slimly muscular physique lay hidden in the voluminous velvet robes that had been heedlessly crushed between usually patient, dextrous fingers.

The figure lay alone, huddled in on itself on the carpeted floor, having fallen out of the plush navy chair now on his right. The wall on his left was taken up by a massive black-stoned fireplace, the flames within still flickering merrily away, heedless of the panting wreck of a man before them.

The man's only response to the torturous and, thus far, unexplained phenomenon before falling into welcome oblivion was an eloquently heartfelt, "What the bloody hell have they done now?"


End file.
